Perchance to Dream
by Nesabj
Summary: This is a tale of Klingon revenge. This story was featured on The Best of Trek.


****

Perchance to Dream 

The Klingon commander Colzah, of the House of Crol, stood on the bridge of the battle ship DeHcutl. He surveyed the scene in front of him with a growing feeling of satisfaction. All was going according to plan. They had inserted the device into place and now he had only to withdraw and wait for it to lure its prey. Colzah knew he would come. Rumors spread to the Federation would be too tempting to ignore. And when he came, the device would broadcast its deadly power and victory for the Empire and the House of Crol would be assured 

Colzah thought of the risk he was taking. If the device did not perform as expected, this whole line of research would be abandoned, and he would be blamed. The Empire had no tolerance for failure and certain elements would call for his death if he failed. But the rewards would be worth any risk. To finally rid the Empire of such a scourge would be glorious, not just for him but for his House and all who served it. He would not fail. 

***** 

__

The sun beat down ruthlessly on the African veldt where a small woman hid behind a bush. As she watched, her prey approached the watering hole nearby. Scarcely daring to breathe, she brought her vidcam up to her eye and began to film. Perhaps it was the faint click of the recorder or perhaps it was a subtle shift in the wind that caused the lioness to lift her head as if she sensed that someone was watching. The huge cat turned and seemed to look directly into the woman's eyes. The woman knew better than to run, but fear made her reckless and she bolted. The lioness let out a soft growling noise and followed. The woman ran swiftly and for a little while she seemed to be pulling away. Without warning, she tripped on an exposed root and twisted her ankle. The ground rose up to meet her as she considered with sadness that she hadn't expected her life to end like this. 

Uhura bolted upright in her bed, heart pounding, and breath coming in gulps and thought, "Damn, not again. If I keep on having nightmares, they're going to have to put me away." Seeking calm, Uhura struggled to slow down her breathing. "If only I could remember the dreams, maybe that would stop them. I think I'll get up and get some water." 

She slid out of bed and gasped in pain. The lieutenant looked down in disbelief at her bruised and swollen ankle and had no memory of anything that could have caused the injury. She had been fine when she went to sleep. As Uhura limped to the sink in her quarters, she felt a chill run down her spine. Something very odd was going on around here. She decided to talk to Dr. McCoy in the morning. Maybe she'd even have him take a look at her ankle. 

Resolving to speak to the doctor made Uhura felt calmer. It was not in her nature to let a bad dream disturb her. It was less easy to dismiss her ankle, but it was possible that she had twisted it in her sleep. That line of thought relaxed her considerably. Still, she had no intention of returning to bed. Even though she realized that she'd pay for that decision during her next duty shift, she donned a uniform and headed for the rec deck. Perhaps some friendly company would help to quiet her nerves. 

***** 

__

A French musketeer, his back to the wall, slashed furiously with his saber as he attempted to beat back the advancing crowd. He was enormously skilled and for a while it seemed that he might just succeed in extricating himself from the mob that seemed determined to tear him apart. Slash, parry, and slash again. He smiled grimly to himself and thought that his fellow musketeers would be horrified to see his rather shocking lack of style. However, there was a time for style and a time for survival, and this was definitely a time for the latter. 

He started to move forward to take advantage of a gap in the crowd created by the death of one of his attackers, when he felt a burning pain. A blade slashed across his right arm. As he watched, a crimson stain spread down his arm. Slippery with blood, his saber slid from his grasp. The crowd advanced, sensing his weakness. He thought sadly that he had never expected his life to end like this. 

Sulu woke with a yell. He was so completely tangled in his bedding that for a moment he thought that someone was holding him down. He thrashed violently until he realized that it was a sheet and not some enemy that kept him immobile. Smiling to himself, he pulled his arms free of the twisted cloth. His smile turned to a frown as he noticed a raw, red welt on his right arm. Sulu had no memory of injuring himself. 

"What the hell is this?" muttered the helmsman. Fear sent a shiver down his spine. Something felt very wrong to Sulu, who was normally the most easygoing person on the ship. Maybe he'd go talk to Dr. McCoy in the morning before his shift. He'd have the doctor look at his arm, too. 

In spite of his discomfort, he could not keep from yawning. 

"These damn dreams. If I don't get a decent night's sleep, I'll be a wreck tomorrow." 

He shuddered at the thought of trying to explain to Mr. Spock that he couldn't do his job properly because bad dreams had disturbed his sleep. That was hardly an excuse the first officer would understand. 

In spite of his fatigue, Sulu had no intention of returning to sleep. He slid out of bed and put on a fresh uniform. He'd just try to survive on coffee and adrenaline and hope that his exhaustion didn't interfere with the performance of his duties. 

Sulu left his cabin to head to the rec deck, hoping to find someone with whom he could share a sleepless night. To his surprise he found Lieutenant Uhura and several other officers from alpha shift, sitting together in a group, drinking coffee and looking very uncomfortable. 

"Can't get to sleep, Sulu?" enquired the communications officer. 

"Oh, I get to sleep alright," he answered. "It's staying asleep that's the problem. Any of the rest of you having bad dreams?" 

Uhura nodded silently and slid over to make room for him to join the others. 

***** 

__

Captain's Log. Stardate 3207.5

The Enterprise is currently in the third day of patrol. Our mission is to maintain a visible presence along the border with the Klingon Empire and report anything out of the ordinary. Unusually, we have been told that we are not to move from our patrol without specific orders from Starfleet, unless the ship is in immediate danger. Those orders are sufficiently odd to raise the hair on the back of my neck. 

Starfleet does not ordinarily send the Enterprise on routine patrol. And, Starfleet doesn't interfere with a captain's freedom to act without a damn good reason. Something must be up, but there's no hint of what it might be from Command. I am particularly wary of our proximity to the Klingons since our recent run-in with them on K-7. The Enterprise is not exactly the Empire's favorite starship at the moment, and I am certainly not their favorite Federation captain. Rumor has it that the Klingons finally had to destroy Koloth's ship to get rid of all the tribbles. Rumor also has it that there's a blood price on my head. Again. 

So far there has been no sign of any activity at all from our neighbors in the Empire. However, Mr. Spock has noticed some unusual energy readings near the Enterprise. He is currently evaluating his findings. Spock is certain that the energy readings are not naturally produced. 

There has been some speculation that the Klingons may have obtained cloaking technology from the Romulans. I suspect that this may be why Starfleet has ordered the Enterprise not to move from the border. They may hope that the sight of this particular ship will provoke the Klingons, perhaps anger them into revealing their new technology. It's certainly worth a try, even though I don't much like the thought of using my ship as bait. 

Captain Kirk was engrossed in dictating his log and did not hear the ship's surgeon come on to the bridge and take up his accustomed position at the captain's elbow. Sensing the captain's distraction, McCoy put a hand on his friend's shoulder to get his attention. Kirk's reaction took them both by surprise. 

"Don't..." the captain moaned. He jerked his shoulder away from McCoy's hand and winced in apparent pain. 

The doctor knew Kirk well enough not to question him directly about his health on the bridge. 

"Captain. I need to see you off the bridge. Right now." 

"Can't it wait, Bones?" 

Kirk tried one of his charming grins to deflect Dr. McCoy. However, after multiple exposures to this particular maneuver the doctor was immune. 

"No, Captain, it can't." 

"Very well, Doctor. I'll see you in my quarters. Mr. Spock, you've got the conn." The first officer nodded in acknowledgement and watched his friend with some concern as he rose from his chair. Spock had heard the captain moan. He was suddenly aware of the pain that Kirk was trying to hide. 

As the doors of the turbolift closed behind them McCoy turned to his friend. "What the hell was that about, Jim? You looked like you were going to faint when I touched your shoulder." 

"I was going to talk to you about it, Bones. I really was. I'll show you in my cabin." 

"I'd prefer Sickbay, Jim." 

The captain glared at his friend. "That will not be necessary, Doctor." 

McCoy decided not to fight this battle. He could always order the captain to Sickbay if he needed to. "Your cabin will be fine, Jim," he replied. "For now." 

When the captain and the doctor were alone in Kirk's quarters, he removed his gold command tunic and his black undershirt. McCoy swore softly at the sight of raw and bloody gashes splayed across the captain's back and shoulders. He thought he understood his captain's reluctance to go to Sickbay. It looked as though someone had whipped him. 

"Jim, what happened to you? Who did this to you?" 

"Bones, you're probably going to think I'm nuts, but I honestly don't know. I was fine when I went to bed, but I had a really rough night. Some kind of dream that I can't remember. I woke up and my back was covered in blood. Hurts, too." 

The doctor was silent for a long time. A chill of apprehension ran down his spine. What the hell was going on? He took a scanner out of his medikit and began to work on Kirk's injuries. Finally McCoy spoke. "Jim, this morning, Sulu, Uhura, Palmer, and T'luack came to see me. They all had nightmares last night and they all suffered from minor injuries. None of them can remember hurting themselves. None of them can remember their dreams either." 

"Why didn't you report this to me immediately? Are they all right?" Kirk asked, concern evident in his voice. 

The doctor thought, with a twinge of annoyance, that it was typical of James Kirk to be more concerned about his crew's health than his own. That trait made McCoy's job very difficult. He had to keep an eagle eye on his captain at all times to make sure that he was not covering up some serious injury or denying some psychological trauma. Kirk put his own well being somewhere at the bottom of a very long list of priorities. After duty and responsibility and, McCoy reflected, too many other rather noble principles. The fact that he actually admitted to being in pain raised a red flag. 

"They're fine, Jim. Just a little tired. But you're not all right. Your injuries are the worst, so far." 

"So far?" Kirk's head snapped up. "What's going on, Bones? What's causing this?" 

"I wish I knew. My scans on the others didn't show anything. No virus, no bacteria, no apparent psychological cause. Nothing. And yours is clean too." 

The captain looked worried and tired. "I guess we need to talk to Spock about this. We'd better find out exactly how many of the crew are being affected. I suspect there may be some more who haven't mentioned it to anyone." 

"I'll get right on it and report back to you as soon as I have some numbers. The others mentioned that they haven't slept well in days. The same for you?" 

The captain nodded. "I haven't slept properly since the patrol started. Nerves, I guess." 

"Sounds like more than nerves to me. Why don't you get some rest now, Jim? I can give you something to help you sleep if the pain's too bad. Spock's got the conn. I'll talk to him and we can handle whatever else needs to be done right now." The doctor reached for his medikit, but stopped when he saw the look on Kirk's face. 

"Sleep is the last thing I want, Bones. And, to be honest, after last night, I'm not sure I ever want to dream again." 

Unsure how to respond, McCoy watched silently as his captain put on his tunic and together the two men headed back to their posts.

*****

As Kirk faced his senior officers around the briefing room table later that day, his thoughts wandered to McCoy's report. The doctor had determined that over the last few days twenty-nine additional crewmembers had suffered from nightmares serious enough to disturb their sleep. None of them could recall the substance of their dreams. Eleven of those affected had also suffered some sort of injury which, like his, they had no memory of sustaining. 

McCoy could find no medical or psychological factor common to all of the crew affected, nor could he suggest a possible explanation. The doctor had recommended that medical scanners be used in each affected person's cabin to monitor them as they slept, since there were too many people involved to do the work in sickbay. The idea of being monitored was comforting to Kirk. He knew that he desperately needed a night's rest. And knowing that McCoy was watching over him made the thought of sleep seem less frightening. 

The captain realized that he had not been focusing on the briefing that was taking place. Tired and distracted, he had to force his attention back to the matter at hand. 

"So, you see Captain, the energy flux occurs at irregular intervals but appears to move in a specific pattern. The energy is definitely not natural. I am almost certain that it is emanating from a cloaked object of some sort. I believe that we can conclude that the Klingons do now possess some form of cloaking technology. However, I am unable to determine at this time whether it is the cloaking device or some other source on the object that is generating the radiation." Mr. Spock looked up from his monitor with an almost apologetic expression. If he ever admitted to irritation, the inability to present all pertinent facts to his captain would certainly be a source of annoyance. 

"That's fine Mr. Spock," Kirk nodded. "Continue your observations and report any new findings." 

The flashing of amber light and the voice of Lieutenant Uhura interrupted the captain. 

"Yellow alert. Bridge to Captain Kirk." 

"Kirk here." 

"Captain, long range sensors indicate a Klingon ship approaching the border." 

Kirk, fatigue and distraction forgotten, bounded out of his chair and responded that he was on his way. The doors to the conference room barely had time to open as he and his officers raced out. 

"Hail the Klingons, Lieutenant Uhura." The captain issued the order as the turbolift doors opened to the bridge. 

"Trying, sir. There is no response." 

Mr. Sulu, who had been monitoring the course of the Klingon ship, turned to the captain and reported. 

"They're slowing to sub-light, Captain. It looks like they are going to stay on their side of the border for now." 

The captain rubbed his forefinger across his jaw, as he often did when concentrating. It seemed to the crew that he was trying to will himself into the enemy ship. Kirk was notorious for his apparent ability to read the moves of his enemies and he often seemed to be able to anticipate their intentions. All of the captain's focus was on the Klingon vessel facing him from across the border. What were they up to? 

"I want full sensors monitoring that ship and if it moves at all, I want to know before it happens." The captain let his smile show in his voice. No one on the bridge doubted his seriousness, but the smile let them know how much he appreciated their abilities. 

***** 

Eight hours later, the Klingon ship mirrored the starship's patrol pattern, staying on its side of the border. In fact, it behaved just the way Kirk might have expected it to. Why then did he feel so uneasy? Alpha shift had long been over, but he had not moved from the bridge since being contacted by Uhura. Perhaps it was simply fatigue that made him feel so uncomfortable. 

Suddenly Uhura's voice announced, "Captain, the Klingon ship is hailing us. Their commander wishes to speak to you." Uhura looked strangely at Kirk, as if trying to stifle a laugh. "Sir, they demand to speak to Kirk the destroyer, the bringer of demons of insatiable appetites, the obliterator of harmony, if he still lives... There's more. Should I go on?" 

Kirk's face was indecipherable. "No, Lieutenant. I think we've all got the picture. Put them on screen." 

As he turned to face the forward view screen, Kirk unconsciously straightened in his command chair. 

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. We are engaged in lawful patrol on the Federation side of the border with your Empire. What do you want?" 

"Kirk? You..." The Klingon seemed surprised, but quickly recovered. " I am Commander Colzah of the battle cruiser DeHcutl. I merely wished to look into the face of the destroyer of ships and give you my name, if you still live. Be warned, Kirk, your treachery will not go unpunished. It will be an honor to send you to the Black Fleet." 

James Kirk had heard many Klingon threats before this and he was not about to be disturbed by one more. 

"Commander Colzah, I live, as you can plainly see, and I intend to continue doing so. You're not the first to offer to send me to the Black Fleet. I prefer to decline the honor. Just see that you stay on your side of the border, and we'll stay on ours. That way no one will need to be punished." 

The view screen went blank and as Kirk turned to look at Uhura, she indicated that the Klingons had stopped transmitting. 

Kirk turned to his first officer. "Well, Spock. It seems that our Klingon friends are still mad. No surprise there. Beaming the tribbles onboard Koloth's ship was a rather sneaky thing to do." Kirk smiled at his friend as they both remembered whose idea that had been. "They did seem to be surprised to see me, though. What do you make of that?" 

Mr. Spock looked at his captain. "Unknown, sir. The Klingons are well known for their illogical behavior. However, since there does not seem to be any immediate danger Captain, may I remind you that it is more than six hours past the end of your duty shift and that of Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu? Dr. McCoy has called repeatedly to say that he wishes to begin his monitoring. All the others are already in their cabins and asleep. Shall I tell him you are all on your way?" 

Bowing to the inevitable, Kirk nodded. The Klingon ships did not seem to present any immediate threat, and he knew Spock would stay on the bridge while he slept. He also did not want his crew to see his discomfort. The captain didn't want to admit that he was uneasy about going to sleep. 

"Sulu and Uhura, you are relieved. Let's get some sleep people. Spock, tell McCoy we're on our way. Good night everyone." 

The three exhausted officers were silent in the turbolift from the bridge. None smiled as they wished each other a good night, each one silently speculating about what the night might hold for them. As Kirk entered his cabin, he thought about how safe and comfortable he had always felt on the Enterprise. He was not about to let this situation change those feelings. He squared his shoulders, smiling to himself to diminish his unease and readied himself for sleep. 

*****

McCoy dozed in front of his monitors, one eye on the screens and the other closed. He had developed the technique in medical school and it had stood him in good stead during his years on the Enterprise. The doctor had spent more nights than he cared to remember monitoring one patient or another, with a kind of superstitious unwillingness to leave until the person was out of danger. He certainly preferred to remain on duty when, like tonight, one of his patients was the captain. 

Kirk had a knack for putting himself in harm's way and McCoy knew that he was often the reason for the captain's continued survival. Over the years Kirk had certainly pushed the doctor's medical skills to their limits. Poison, alien germs, phaser burns, those he knew he could handle. But this? This was certainly the oddest situation McCoy could remember. He was monitoring twenty-nine of the healthiest people in the galaxy in case they hurt themselves in their sleep. There was probably a paper for some medical journal in this somewhere. The comforting hums and normal beeps of the monitors lulled McCoy into a restful state. 

__

He followed the silvery form, as he knew he must, watching in horror as she entered the burning room. The heat was unbearable but he knew he could never leave her to perish alone in the flames. He pushed further into the inferno. Without warning, the door swung shut behind him. Fire licked at the walls inside the windowless room. Slowly, inexorably, the room became the airless void of space. And still it burned. Through the flames he could sense that his silver lady had left him. He was alone, abandoned by the only one to whom he had ever pledged his life. 

Smoke settled over him, wrapping around him like a gray blanket of death. He struggled to breathe but the air too thick with fumes to reach his lungs. The heat was so intense that blisters formed on his hands as he held them up to protect his face. As his vision faded, he knew that this end served no purpose. He had dedicated his soul to a faithless creature who flew on without him. He raged at the waste of such a death, for he had always hoped to sell himself more dearly. Anger turned to sadness. He had never thought that his life would end like this. 

A loud, insistent buzzing interrupted McCoy's rest. One of the monitors indicated trouble. The doctor shook himself and focused on the screens in front of him. It was the captain. The scale that monitored Kirk's body temperature had risen nearly three degrees in the past four minutes. Not waiting for more data, McCoy grabbed his medikit and ran to the captain's cabin. 

Overriding the lock, he moved to Kirk's bed. The captain lay absolutely still. As McCoy reached over to gently shake him awake, he could feel waves of heat rise from Kirk's body like flames from a fire. His color was an unhealthy scarlet and his skin felt dry and dehydrated. Although the captain appeared to be breathing, his lips and nails were blue, indicating signs of oxygen deprivation. McCoy's shaking did not rouse him. 

The captain's temperature continued to rise. McCoy loaded his hypospray with tri-ox and a potent fever reducer. No results. He tried a different drug, more tri-ox. Again, nothing. If the captain's fever rose too high he would start to seize. Without oxygen he would soon suffer brain damage. McCoy felt a chill of fear as he desperately tried to find an answer. 

The door to the captain's cabin opened. Not stopping to wonder how Spock knew his captain was in trouble, McCoy snapped, "Help me get him in the shower. We've got to lower his body temperature and fast." 

Together, the two men carried the unconscious Kirk into his shower, turned on the water, and held him under the icy torrent. McCoy ran his scanner over the inert body in Spock's arms. 

"Oxygen levels are rising. His temperature is stabilizing, but it's still dangerously high. I've tried to bring it down medically, but nothing's worked." The doctor looked frightened. 

"I shall try a meld and see if I can control his fever, Doctor." 

The Vulcan's teeth were chattering, but even through the chill of the cold shower, he could feel the frightening heat radiating from the captain's body. Spock's hand moved to touch the meld points while he braced to encounter whatever Kirk was experiencing. As his mind reached out to seek the familiar mental images of his captain, Spock felt a searing wall of flame separate him from his friend. Fearlessly, he pushed forward into the inferno and for a moment Spock could see Kirk, floating alone and unprotected in space. His body was ablaze, burning in vacuum. Spock felt a shiver of fear as he recognized familiar images from a nightmare that the captain had once described to him. As Spock moved closer he sensed that something else, some power, surrounding the captain. Spock reached out to touch it and was jolted away as if he had touched an electric charge. Then blackness claimed him and he saw nothing. 

McCoy cursed as he saw Spock begin to meld with Jim. He knew that he should try to prevent it, but he also knew that if they didn't help Kirk and soon, he would die. The doctor was running out of options. McCoy watched while the Vulcan completed the contact. He grew rigid as if in the grip of some terrible energy. Pain rippled across his face. Just as the doctor considered forcing Spock's hand away from the captain's head, the Vulcan jerked, then slumped to the floor, contact broken. 

McCoy ran his scanner over Spock's motionless body. He was unconscious, but did not seem to be in immediate danger. McCoy could not determine what had caused the Vulcan's collapse. He heard a soft moan and turned to the captain. To his great relief, the doctor observed that Kirk's fever was abating and he appeared to be regaining consciousness. The captain's body shuddered violently then relaxed, as if he too had been in the grasp of some force that suddenly released him. His eyes opened slowly. 

"Bones...." Kirk looked confused as he shook his head to clear the water from his eyes. McCoy turned off the shower. The captain saw the prone body of his first officer and tried to move towards him. 

"Spock. What's wrong with him? Help him, Doctor." 

As the captain reached out to touch the Vulcan he grimaced in pain. Gently taking the captain's hand in his, McCoy swore at the blisters that covered his friend's palm. He reached for the other hand. It too looked badly burned. 

"Do you remember burning yourself, Jim? Maybe you were sleepwalking? No, couldn't be. The monitors would have shown any movement. Can you remember whether you were dreaming?" the doctor queried. 

The captain looked up at McCoy with something like fear in his eyes. He shook his head and tried to sit up. "Spock? What happened to him?" 

"Just lie still, Jim. I'll call for help and get you both to Sickbay. Spock melded with you and it knocked him out. I can't figure out exactly what happened, but I will. Don't worry about Spock. He doesn't appear to be in any danger. It's you that I'm concerned about. Somehow you managed to burn your hands badly while you were asleep. I'd like to give you a sedative. Those hands must hurt like hell, and your body temperature was so high, you're lucky there was no brain damage." 

The look of absolute horror on his friend's face made McCoy stop. The captain's voice was strong and certain. "No sedative. That's an order. I'll be fine. Just look after Spock and dress the blisters. Who's monitoring the others? Are they all right?" 

The doctor growled in frustration. "They're all fine, Jim. M'Benga's in Sickbay and he was called as soon as I left to come to your cabin. Let me at least..." 

The doctor's request was interrupted by a signal from the bridge. 

"DePaul to Captain Kirk. The Klingon ship appears to be powering up its weapons. Should I signal red alert?" 

McCoy opened the comm link to answer. He was stopped by his captain's voice. 

"Affirmative, Lieutenant. I'm on my way. Kirk out." 

"No you're not, Jim. You were nearly dead five minutes ago and you've got burns on your hands that would stagger any normal person." 

"Don't argue with me, Bones. Help me. Spock is out, and my ship is in danger. Give me something for the pain that won't knock me out. I've got to get to the bridge. Now." 

The doctor gave his friend a long look. He knew there was no point in arguing with him when it came to his duty to the Enterprise. 

"Very well, Captain," the doctor growled. "I certainly wouldn't want to stand in the way of your self- destruction." 

McCoy called for a medical team to take Mr. Spock to sickbay, and then he reluctantly reached into his medikit and proceeded to spray a topical anesthetic and dressing on his captain's hands. He helped him to pull on a dry uniform, all the while cursing under his breath. They left the captain's cabin together. McCoy and the medical team headed to Sickbay with Spock, and Kirk headed to the bridge. 

*****

"Report, Mr. DePaul," the captain barked as he moved to take the command chair. Only a careful observer would be able to detect the slight stiffness that indicated that Kirk was controlling his pain. 

"Captain," answered DePaul, "just before you got to the bridge the Klingon ship fired its disrupters, but, it seemed to be firing into empty space. The disrupters were not aimed at us, that's for certain. The sensors show nothing at all. We can't determine whether they hit anything because it looks like there's nothing there. They've powered down their weapons, sir. I have no idea what's going on. This is strange behavior even for Klingons." 

DePaul, who was third watch commander, was normally a very controlled individual. In fact, there was a joke circulating around the ship that she probably wouldn't explode even if the warp engines did. But Kirk could sense the uncharacteristic frustration and anger building in the lieutenant. None of his crew liked being in a situation that they didn't understand. The captain least of all. 

Lieutenant Murta, the third shift communications officer, broke in. "Captain, we're being hailed. They ask to speak to whoever now commands the Enterprise." She looked confused. The Klingons were only too well aware of who was in command. 

"This is Captain James T. Kirk. You wish to speak to me?" The captain's voice was strong and assured. His adversaries would see no hint of the ordeal he had just been through. 

The glowering Klingon on the view screen spoke. "Kirk?" The arrogant face seemed to crumple in disappointment. "You are not..." A snarling voice from offscreen cut off the speaker. There was a pause and then the Klingons abruptly cut their transmission. 

Lieutenant Murta's puzzled face indicated that she was unable to determine the reason for the Klingons' actions. "They simply stopped transmitting, sir, and now they refuse to answer our hail." 

DePaul interrupted. "Captain Kirk, torpedo doors are opening on the DeHcutl." 

"Shields up." Kirk snapped. 

Tension surged through the bridge as the Enterprise crew waited to see if the Klingons were beginning an attack. Several minutes passed and then, inexplicably, the torpedo doors closed. 

"Captain," said DePaul, " the Klingon ship has powered down its weapons." 

"Stand down from red alert, Lieutenant." 

As if on cue, the bridge doors opened and McCoy stepped onto the bridge. "Captain, I'd like to see you in Sickbay." 

The captain swiveled in his chair. 

"Spock? Is he worse?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

"No, sir," grumped the doctor. "Spock is still unconscious. There's been no change, but I think he'll be fine. I need to see you in Sickbay." 

"How are the others, Doctor? Has anyone else experienced any problems?" The captain turned his worried face towards the doctor. 

"No, Jim. I checked with M'Benga when I took Spock to Sickbay. All the others are fine. They did show a slight elevation in blood pressure and temperature during their REM cycles, but no one's suffered any major sleep disturbances, nor was anyone injured." McCoy looked at his friend and shuddered to himself at the memory of Kirk's burned hands. "Just you." 

Kirk looked at his friend and felt a twinge of sympathy. He realized that he didn't make the doctor's job an easy one, but there was a mystery out there and he had to solve it for the safety of his ship. Then he would deal with the doctor. 

"Bones," the captain said softly, "I can't leave the bridge now. There's something out there we don't understand. My first officer is out of commission and I have no choice. You know that. Help me. Don't fight me now." 

McCoy looked at the man who sat in the center seat and thought, not for the first time, that too much was asked of one person. No matter how exceptional that man might be, sometimes the burdens of command demanded more than any mortal should be asked to give. However, this time he kept those thoughts to himself as he nodded to his captain. "I'll be in Sickbay with Spock. Call me if you need me." Without another word the Doctor turned and left the bridge. 

Captain Kirk spent the rest of that watch on the bridge. Watching nothing. There was no sign of the unexplained radiation, nothing at all out of the ordinary. What was the strange energy? Where was it coming from? What was affecting him and some of his crew? Why were only some of them affected? Why was he affected most of all? What were those Klingons up to? Mystery upon mystery. And, it seemed to the captain that they were nowhere near solutions to any of them. The questions swirled round in his thoughts like a crazy chain, but the answers evaded him. He desperately wished for the logical analysis of his first officer. 

The demands of the past days had taken their toll on the captain. He hadn't had any real rest and his injuries had weakened him. A part of him longed for sleep but sleep had come to feel like an enemy. What had always seemed like a source of sustenance and healing now seemed like a beast that wounded rather than comforted. And, to dream... Kirk felt an almost metaphysical horror at the thought of dreaming. The little death was no longer a poetic description. Death seemed too much like a real possibility. 

It took all of Kirk's concentration and force of will to stay awake in his chair. To keep from falling asleep, the captain paced the bridge like a caged animal, calling down to Sickbay far too often to inquire about Mr. Spock. And once, when he allowed himself the luxury of leaning back in his command seat, he felt his eyes begin to close. That triggered a rush of adrenaline that was sufficient to insure that Kirk remained wide-awake through the rest of the watch. 

*****

The comforting beeps and chirps of the Sickbay monitor reassured Dr. McCoy that his Vulcan patient was slowly regaining consciousness. Thank heavens for small favors, since the captain had called him often enough that he was starting to drive McCoy crazy. 

Although he would never admit it, either to Spock or to himself, McCoy was always a little uncertain when he treated the first officer. Spock's hybrid physiognomy was unusual to say the least, and McCoy could not always rely on his monitors to present a full picture of the Vulcan's health. This was the case as he watched Spock struggle to awareness. He had been unconscious for many hours and was finally showing signs of coming out of it. Since McCoy didn't understand what had struck down the Vulcan, he was fearful that any treatment might harm him. However, he was also keenly aware that Captain Kirk was in desperate need of help and that he wouldn't accept that help from anyone but his first officer. Scott had called McCoy to report that the captain had refused to be relieved by him, citing some obscure regulation about a potential red alert. So, now McCoy could only wait and hope that Spock's Vulcan powers of recuperation would serve them all again. 

"Dr. McCoy." The deep voice of the Vulcan interrupted the doctor's thoughts. 

"Dr. McCoy. Why am I in sickbay? Are the Klingons still shadowing the Enterprise? How is the captain? Were you able to bring down his fever? Were the other crewmembers affected?" 

McCoy smiled to himself with relief. It sure sounded like Spock was all right. A million questions. Nothing reassured the doctor more about Spock's health than his insatiable curiosity. 

"Whoa there, Spock. You lie back down 'till I tell you to get up and I'll answer your questions, best that I can. You're in Sickbay because you passed out during a meld with Jim, who is on the bridge, and no, he's not all right. He burned his hands during that crazy fever. The damn Klingons are still out there acting strange, even for them. And Jim refuses to be relieved. Maybe now you're awake, I can get him off the bridge. I think he's scared to go to sleep, though he'd never admit that to me." 

Spock bolted upright. "I must speak to the captain, Doctor. If I'm right, you may have to give him stimulants to keep him from sleeping. He must not dream. His life may be in jeopardy." 

McCoy was startled by the alarm in the Vulcan's voice and confused by his statement. Jim hadn't slept in days and it seemed to the doctor that rest was imperative. He replied, "That's crazy, Spock. The man is dead on his feet. I've been trying to get him to go to sleep and now you say I should give him stimulants to keep him awake?" 

"You fail to understand, Doctor. I encountered something very odd in the meld with the captain. Something that might make sense of the strange energy readings that I have been tracking. I believe the captain is in grave danger." 

"If Jim's in trouble, Spock, can you help him?" The doctor's voice was thick with fear at the thought of what the meld might have revealed to the Vulcan. 

"Perhaps, Doctor. However, I can do little for the captain from Sickbay." Without another word the two men left together to help their captain. 

*****

For Captain Kirk, alpha watch began with the welcome news that Mr. Spock was showing signs of regaining consciousness. In spite of the doctor's nagging and Mr. Scott's requests, the captain remained firmly rooted to the bridge. His only concession to fatigue was to require a constant supply of strong hot coffee be available at all times. He drank so much that his nerves jangled and his head ached. But still he refused to leave the bridge. 

The bridge crew persisted in their search for a recurrence of the strange energy flux. The Klingon ship continued to shadow their patrol pattern, but refused all communication with the Enterprise. The feeling of frustration on the bridge was palpable. When the turbo lift doors opened to the welcome view of Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, most of the bridge crew could not help but smile in relief. The sight of Captain Kirk, exhausted and trying to mask his pain, had been difficult to ignore, and they all hoped that with Mr. Spock back the captain would let Dr. McCoy help him. 

Hazel eyes met brown ones as the two friends appraised each other's condition. 

Kirk rose to greet his first officer. "Welcome back, Mr. Spock. I trust you are recovered?" the captain asked. 

"Indeed, Captain." The Vulcan pitched his voice so that only Kirk could hear him. "Jim, I must discuss a matter of great importance with you. Perhaps in your quarters?" 

The captain smiled at what seemed to be his friend's rather transparent attempt to get him to leave the bridge. "Here will do fine, Spock. I'm not going anywhere yet. Not till we figure out what's been happening out there. That Klingon ship fired into space and launched a torpedo that doesn't exist. Oh, and they still seem surprised that I'm not dead. What do you make of that?" 

"Captain, I have a theory, as yet untested, as to what may be happening, but I would prefer not to speculate until I have some proof. However, I would not take their threats against you lightly. It would seem prudent to put some distance between the Enterprise and the Klingon border." 

Kirk looked annoyed. "We have our orders, Mr. Spock, as you well know. We can't just leave our patrol without a damn good reason. Command was very clear on that subject. And, I don't think Klingon bluster qualifies as a good reason. Besides, those Klingons might take our absence as an invitation to enter Federation space." 

Mr. Spock nodded. He was only too well aware of his captain's obligation to duty. Kirk was not going to disregard Starfleet orders and leave the border unless Spock gave him a good reason. An untested theory about the captain's welfare would not be sufficient cause to get Kirk to change course. He would have to find another tack to convince the captain to remove the Enterprise from this area before it was too late. Perhaps if he could persuade the captain to leave the bridge, they could speak of what he had seen in the meld. 

"Captain," he began tentatively, "could we go over my findings off the bridge?" 

"Nice try, but, no. Say whatever you have to say right here. I'm not going anywhere." Kirk sat down heavily in his chair, trying to hide his fatigue from his fellow officer. 

"Then, sir, may I suggest that you make every effort to remain awake. Dr. McCoy has agreed to a stimulant to aid you in that effort." 

Kirk's face quirked in to a surprised smile. He had asked the doctor for stimulants several times during the last watch and each time he had been vigorously denied. 

"I rarely fall asleep on the bridge, Mr. Spock. Besides, I thought everyone was determined to get me to go to sleep. What's this about?" 

"Jim," said Spock, an uncharacteristic urgency in his voice, "at this time I am unable to supply you with definite answers. But I am of the opinion that it may mean your continued survival if we do not leave this area of space." 

Spock paused and was about to continue his explanation when Mr. Sulu's voice, loud with agitation, interrupted the first officer. 

"Captain, sensors indicate that the DeHcutl's torpedo doors have opened and I am detecting that strange energy flux again. It's much more powerful this time. Should I signal a red alert?" 

Kirk did not answer. 

"Captain?" 

Sulu turned to see why Kirk had not responded and stopped in horror. The captain sat absolutely still in the command chair. His face had turned blue and there was a thin trickle of blood spreading horizontally across the front of his uniform. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be gasping for breath. 

Spock sprang down to the command chair. He reached a hand to touch the chillingly familiar line of blood on his friend's chest. Crisply he snapped out his orders. 

"Helmsman, go to warp 5, bearing 37 mark 8. Take us away from the border." 

Sulu turned to question Spock's order to leave the border but stopped when he saw the look on the Vulcan's face. "Aye, sir. Warp 5," was all he said. 

__

The searing heat of the coals scorched his back as the strong hands pushed him down into the fire pit. His chest burned from the slash of the lirpa. The leather thong around his neck was choking the life out of him. He tried to fight back, to push away from the heat, but the thin air and the gravity robbed him of his strength. The doctor's hypo hadn't helped. Rather, he felt a strange weakness in his arms and legs. 

The hands around his neck spoke of a power that was not sane. But, he would not stop this, even though he felt that he could not survive much longer. If he quit, they might choose another, and that would mean the certain death of his friend. He had not risked everything to bring his friend to Vulcan, only to have him die. His vision grew clouded. He was beyond pain. He felt his life force draining onto the burning sands of Vulcan and sadness overwhelmed him. He never thought that his life would end like this. 

The bridge crew stared in horror as Kirk appeared to be choking to death. The captain's eyes were closed and he made no sound at all. Some deadly nightmare seemed to have him in its thrall. His hands went to his neck as if to pull away a phantom that was squeezing the life from him. McCoy moved to help. He tried to rouse the captain, but Kirk's body was caught in a battle that he seemed to be loosing. Desperately, McCoy reached for a stimulant, though he feared it would be useless. The whine of the engines indicated that the Enterprise had gone to warp and was speeding away from the Klingon border. Suddenly, Kirk's body lost its stiffness and he would have slumped to the deck had Spock not kept him from falling. 

Spock settled Kirk's unconscious body back into his chair. He looked at McCoy with something very like pain in his eyes. He had a suspicion that he recognized the dream Kirk had been reliving. A strangled gasp seemed to signal Kirk's return to consciousness. The captain's eyes opened and he struggled to sit up. As his back rested against the command seat, he winced with pain. He allowed fear to play across his face for a second, and then with an enormous force of will, Kirk regained control. His voice was hoarse but it snapped with command. 

"Report. Mr. Spock." 

For a moment, the Vulcan seemed unable to answer. However, he realized that what the captain most needed from him was some semblance of normalcy. He reported. 

"The Enterprise is moving away from the border at warp 5. The DeHcutl has not followed us. Captain, I am now certain that the Klingons have been using a cloaked energy weapon. I believe that the weapon has intermittently leaked radiation and that leakage is the flux that I have been observing. I am of the opinion that the weapon is aimed it at you, sir. Colzah did seem surprised that you survived. That could be explained if he expected you to be killed by their weapon." 

The captain looked puzzled. 

"Why me, Spock?" he asked. 

"I believe that the Klingons might be attempting to gain revenge for the tribble incident. The attitude of Commander Colzah would certainly support the theory that they are trying to destroy you personally." 

Spock looked as his captain with something very like guilt on his face. He was only too well aware of his own part in the disposition of the tribbles. 

He continued to explain. "I believe this device is what has caused your dreaming episodes and your injuries. When I melded with you, I sensed some sort of energy field. I believe I can correlate that field with the readings of the radiation flux that we have been tracking. The Klingons, it would seem, have devised a rather gruesome weapon, perhaps a variation on the mind sifter, which can selectively broadcast its power over a finite distance. I believe it invades the victim's mind, stimulating violent dreams with an intensity that causes physical symptoms." 

"They must have either purchased or developed cloaking technology and combined it with the mind weapon. I am of the opinion that earlier versions only worked while the victim slept. It would seem that a more powerful weapon, one that doesn't require sleep, was just launched from the Klingons' torpedo bay." 

Kirk shuddered as he remembered that Mr. Spock had firsthand knowledge of a Klingon mind weapon on Organia. "Why wasn't everyone bothered by it? Why was I the one most affected, Spock?" 

"I can not be certain, Captain. However, I surmise that the mind weapon may have been programmed to your particular brain pattern, which the Klingons could have obtained while you were on K7. I suspect that if we were to examine the other crewmembers who were affected, we would find that their brain patterns are similar to yours in some respect. The Klingons seem to have been fine-tuning the weapon in successive versions. That would clarify why the rest of the crew is no longer affected." 

The captain sat very still for a moment. The concept of the Klingons developing a device that could exploit the most intimate aspects of a person's mind was chilling. He looked to Spock for answers. 

"And do you know why none of us could remember our dreams, Spock?" 

The Vulcan looked pained at having to present less than the total picture to Captain Kirk. 

"Again, I can not be certain without examining the device. I surmise that they are manipulating brain waves at the subconscious level to access your dreams and amplify them. Just as one's conscious mind does not always access a normal dream, so might this device prevent conscious access." 

Kirk was quiet for a long moment. "This does explain Colzah's odd behavior. We need to find a way to block that energy, and we'd better get back to the border and fast." 

McCoy, who had been silently working on restoring his captain to some semblance of health, blanched. 

"You can't be serious, Jim. You nearly died. Again. Colzah might just be successful next time." 

"Bones," the captain replied softly, "we can't let the Klingons know that they have a working weapon. So far, they think they've failed. We've got to convince them that this thing is defective or everyone who comes near a Klingon will be vulnerable. If they think they've failed with me, they'll give it up. Klingons have no tolerance for anything less than complete success." 

Spock looked up from his console. "Captain," he said, "aside from the cloaking aspect, the weapon appears to be rather unsophisticated. I am quite certain that we can circumvent its energy flux. I must speak with Mr. Scott. We may be able to convert the deflectors to modulate the shield frequencies. This could block the energy waves that have been attacking you." 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get on it Spock," sputtered McCoy. 

"Yes, Captain McCoy." The Vulcan looked at Kirk who nodded his consent. 

Kirk dragged a weary hand across his forehead. He was having difficulty concentrating. He gathered himself and straightened in his chair. Putting a name to the problem improved his spirits, and knowing that Scott and Spock were working together on a solution made him feel confident that they would find an answer. He just needed to find the strength to hang on until they found it. 

"Mr. Sulu, lay in a course back to the border, Warp 1." 

"Aye, sir." 

"ETA to the Klingon border, Mr. Sulu?" 

"At, warp 1, twenty-one minutes, sir." 

The captain looked up at Spock, who was speaking to Scott in engineering. "You have twenty-one minutes to implement a solution. And, Mr. Spock, please hurry." 

The Vulcan did not remove his eyes from his monitor, but he did nod his agreement. He was all too aware of the stakes if he and Mr. Scott were not successful. 

*****

Dr. McCoy convinced the captain that he should return to his cabin and change into a clean tunic while the ship returned to the Klingon border. In the past, McCoy had often despaired at the difficulty of keeping Kirk in shirts. He hoped that this was not the last one he helped his captain put on. 

The doctor watched as his friend looked at his bed with a mixture of loathing and longing. He ran his scanner up Kirk's chest and frowned at the readings. 

"Jim, you're running on adrenaline and stimulants. You can't keep this up much longer. You need to rest and you need to let me heal those injuries." 

The captain slammed a fist onto his desk. 

"What would you have me do, Doctor?" he asked angrily. "I can't let the Klingons think that this weapon works. And I'm the only one who can convince them of their failure. Just keep me on my feet long enough to do that. Then, we'll leave the border, orders or no orders, and I'll do whatever you ask of me." 

Dr. McCoy felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. He was keenly aware that Kirk might not survive his next encounter with the Klingons but he was helpless to protect his friend. He could only trust that Spock and Scotty could create another miracle. But was there enough time? 

Apparently, that same thought was on the captain's mind and he called up to the bridge. 

"Kirk to bridge. Report, Mr. Spock." 

"Spock here. Mr. Scott is making the final modifications to the shields, sir. Unfortunately, we can not be certain that we have solved the problem until we can test our adjustments against the actual energy flux." There was a pause as the Vulcan considered what such a test might mean to Captain Kirk. "We are only four minutes away from the border, sir, and we are not certain of the range of the Klingon weapon. I suggest, Jim, that it is time you returned to the bridge." 

"I'm on my way, Spock." The captain turned and looked around his cabin, as if he were looking at if for the last time. "Coming, Bones?" he asked. 

"I'm with you, Jim," answered the doctor. And he meant it in every sense of the word. Together, the two friends left for the bridge. 

As Kirk settled into the command chair he saw that Mr. Scott had come to the bridge. The engineer smiled encouragingly at his captain, and Kirk felt comforted. Scotty had performed miracles and saved all their lives countless time. Kirk knew that he would move heaven and earth to do so again. 

Uhura's voice announced that they were being hailed by the Klingon ship. She indicated that the Klingons were not asking for Kirk, but for the commander of the Enterprise. 

"On screen, Lieutenant." the captain ordered. He straightened up and tried to wipe all indications of pain and fatigue from his face. 

"You wish to talk to me, Colzah?" the captain asked, as casually as he was able. 

"Kirk? It's not possible. Your ship left the border, you should be..." 

Kirk smiled. "Should be ... what, Commander?" 

The Klingon was silent for a moment. Then, he whispered something to an aide who was standing near him. He looked back at Kirk. 

"Kirk, the Black Fleet awaits." 

Spock stiffened as he watched the radiation indicator on his monitor. The Klingons had activated their energy weapon. He could see the captain sag and then with a force of will that was unmistakable, pull himself erect. It appeared that the shield modifications were screening out most of the energy, but enough was leaking through to be dangerous to the already weakened captain. Spock looked over at Mr. Scott who was already adjusting his shield settings to screen out the errant energy. 

"Colzah," Kirk said, his voice hoarse with strain, "this is getting tiresome." 

"Kirk, you must die!" screamed the Klingon commander, clearly enraged at the human's seeming invincibility. He leaned over to his aide and whispered something. 

"Not today, Commander. Today is not a good day to die," Kirk answered, twisting the Klingon phrase to his own purpose. He barely got out the words. Something, some force was surrounding him, blocking out all light and air. He felt himself being pulled downwards. He struggled to remain conscious, but the force surrounding him was too strong. 

Spock saw that his captain was loosing his fight to stay awake. He signaled to Uhura to break off transmission to the Klingons. 

__

The sickly, sweet smell seemed to surround him. It felt as if his entire body was immersed in the aroma. Holding his breath did nothing to block the sense that he was being smothered in rancid honey, opaque and viscous. It possessed a force that he could not resist, one that pulled him downward as if to drown him in a malignant cloud of evil. He was suddenly aware of a numbing cold that seemed to invade his body. With a kind of detached horror he felt an icy assault that started with his limbs and sent relentless tendrils of cold to intertwine with his very being. 

On Scott and Spock's monitors, the magnitude of the energy readings doubled, then tripled. Both men were keenly aware that this dream might be Kirk's last. Scott worked desperately to adjust the ship's shields, but he could not fully counteract the effect on the captain. 

McCoy leapt to Kirk's side, scanner in hand. That instrument only confirmed what McCoy could observe with his own eyes. The captain's skin was turning a chalky white and heat seemed to leech from his body. 

"Something is destroying his red blood cells. I've never seen anything..." 

The doctor stopped and with a look of absolute terror he turned to Spock. Together they remembered a time before, on a barren planet, when a relentless cloud of evil had consumed the red blood cells of its human victims. Together they remembered all the deaths that thing had caused and how they had been powerless to stop its insatiable appetite for human blood. 

McCoy quickly injected the captain with a massive dose of hemoglobin substitute to counteract the loss of red blood cells and a stimulant, in an attempt to wake him. He shook Kirk hard but could not rouse him. 

"It's not working. Damn it," muttered a frustrated and frightened McCoy. 

__

A slight warming flush washed over his body. It gave him strength to fight on, if only for a moment. It was not in his nature to surrender, but the cold was so intense that he felt as though he might shatter into a million pieces. Stubborn will resisted the seemingly omnipotent evil, but he knew that he was slipping away. He felt sadness as he considered that he had not expected his life to end like this. 

Spock watched the doctor struggle to help their captain, but he suspected that McCoy's efforts to wake him would be futile. The Klingon weapon used mental energy and he sensed that it would require the same to defeat it. And, if he was correct about the subject of Kirk's dream, Spock had an additional card to play. He strode down to the captain's side and placed his hand on his friend's face. 

McCoy saw what the Vulcan was about to try. "No, Spock. You could die too. It's too dangerous. Remember what happened last time you tried to meld with Jim. Just get us away from the border, now." 

"Unfortunately, Doctor, we can not leave. The captain was quite correct. We must try at all costs to convince the Klingons that their weapon is a failure, or none of us will ever be safe from it." 

The doctor looked at Spock, despair clearly etched on his face. "This is Jim's life we're risking. And yours. I'm afraid we'll lose both of you." 

The first officer looked at McCoy with something like compassion. "I am fully aware of the danger, Doctor. However, there is no other logical course of action, and I fear, very little time." 

Spock turned to the chief engineer. "Mr. Scott, you have the conn until further notice. Continue to work on the shields." 

Without another word, he composed himself and reached out for the captain's mental image. As his mind searched for Kirk, Spock was confronted with the barrier that he had encountered in his last meld with Jim. For a moment, remembering the pain, he hesitated. Suddenly through the barrier, the Vulcan saw the image of Jim Kirk. He was still struggling to free himself from whatever held him, but he was clearly weakening. Spock knew that if he didn't reach Jim, and wake him, he would die. That thought filled Spock with anguish. He would not allow his captain to die. Summoning all his Vulcan mental disciplines and an unwillingness to give up that had been taught to him by a certain human, Spock surged through the searing pain and parted the barrier. 

__

A voice spoke to him. That was impossible. He was alone. He was so cold. Only death could release him from the icy grip of the creature that surrounded him. He railed at the thought of dying, but the cloud was too cold, too strong. He feared that he couldn't fight much longer. 

The voice persisted. He pushed it away, afraid that someone else might be drawn into this deadly trap. 

"Jim." The voice was calling his name. "Jim, follow me. You must wake up now." 

It was impossible. Nothing could protect him from the malignant force that was claiming his life. They would only be destroyed together. But that voice, it somehow seemed to offer safety. To promise warmth and life. 

"Jim, you must follow me now. This is a dream. It is not real. You must wake up. The Klingons must not be allowed to win." 

"Spock?" 

"Yes, Jim, yes. It's Spock. You must wake up now. We have very little time. Follow my voice." 

"I can't, Spock. I'll only drag you down with me. Let me go." 

"I will not leave you, Jim. Follow me. The cloud cannot harm me. It has not developed a taste for my Vulcan blood. Remember that, Jim, and I will protect you. Come with me and together we will defeat our enemies. Wake up now!" 

In the midst of the icy murk, a tendril of warmth seemed to reach towards him. He struggled to touch it, scarcely daring to believe that he could. A barrier of searing pain loomed in front of him. The agony was greater than he could endure. For a moment more he fought, but he was too tired. Perhaps this was how his life would end after all. He started to slip away, but the voice would not allow him to surrender. 

"Jim, this is not real. It is a dream. I will not let it harm either of us. Follow me now and wake up!" 

He felt himself being wrenched away from his torment. The wall parted and he left the frigid darkness behind him. 

Kirk roused to hear Scott announce that he had succeeded in blocking all the energy from the Klingon weapon. Dr. McCoy looked relieved as he ran a scanner over the captain's chest, and Mr. Spock stood next to him, watching him with an expression that he could not quite identify. 

"Was I out, Spock?" he asked. 

Uncharacteristically, Spock hesitated as if he was not sure what to say. His eyes held a hint of a smile for those who knew how to find it. 

"Only for a moment, Captain. We succeeded in blocking the effects of the weapon. Perhaps you should hail the Klingons. They should see evidence of their failure as soon as possible." 

"Open a channel." 

The Klingon commander appeared on screen, a ferocious smile on his face. 

"Enterprise, you hail us again? At such a sad time for you?" 

Kirk straightened his back and spoke with all the energy that he could. 

"A sad time? Whatever could you mean, Commander Colzah?" 

"KIRK!!!" The Klingon's scream was blood curdling. "Impossible. You live?" 

"Obviously Colzah. And, we know about your weapon and your rather feeble attempt at a cloaking device. I suggest you withdraw it before you provoke an incident." 

The Klingon transmission was abruptly cut. 

"Captain, the Klingon's are powering up their weapons," the first officer reported. 

They watched with satisfaction as the DeHcutl shot its disrupters into open space. However, this time the onlookers knew what was being destroyed. 

"The Klingon ship has gone to warp, sir." 

If a ship could be felt to relax, then the Enterprise did just that. Kirk looked around at his friends and fellow officers. For a second, it seemed to him that a sickly sweet smell seemed to linger in the air, but then it was gone. He had no memory of this last dream save for a persistent feeling that once again he owed his survival to those who served with him. He resolved to talk to them all privately, to make certain that they knew how much he valued them. 

"Mr. Spock, resume patrol and notify Starfleet that we request permission to leave the Klingon border. I suspect when they read the ship's logs, they won't have any problem reassigning the Enterprise. Maybe they'll even see fit to grant us shoreleave. We certainly could use the rest." 

As Kirk got up from his chair, a feeling of great weakness washed over him. Inexplicably, he felt cold down to his bones. 

"Captain, I'd like to get you to Sickbay, now." said McCoy. 

The doctor came over to steady him, but the captain waved him away. Kirk was more tired than he ever remembered, but he was determined to leave the bridge under his own power. 

"Not now, Bones. I just need to get some rest. Now, if you'll all excuse me," Kirk said with a weary grin, "I'm going to my cabin to sleep for a week." 

The bridge crew watched as he entered the turbo lift and no one wished their captain pleasant dreams. 

*****

The Klingon commander Colzah, of the house of Crol, stood in the prisoner's dock. Judgement had gone against him. He had been sentenced to death for his failure to destroy an enemy of the Klingon Empire. He was not afraid to die, but before he did, he swore a blood oath that bound his house and all who served it, to send the devil James T. Kirk, captain of the Enterprise to the Black Fleet for all eternity. 

The End 


End file.
